


A Vow Worth Keeping

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: Negan has many wives, most of whom hate him.  He knows that.  But there’s one that’s a little different, one who takes her vows just a little more seriously…





	A Vow Worth Keeping

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous request on Tumblr that I thought was just really cute. Thank you for sending it in, Anon! I hope this is what you had in mind!
> 
> ‘Can you please write a Wife!Reader x Negan fic? It’s like no one seems to write that pairing anymore. :( I’ve had this WIP that I’ve given up a while ago; it was about a wife who was taking her position very seriously. Like she was seeing herself as a ‘real wife’, as in traditional sense, I mean. Since Negan had saved her and did so much to protect her, she was doing everything to be the best wife she could. And she was very nice and cute so Negan was teasing/making fun of her a lot. ^^’

There was a pleasant hum of conversation in the marketplace as you weaved between the stalls, an empty tote bag swinging from one arm as your eyes roamed over the goods laid out on display.  The beauty of the Sanctuary, you thought, was that it had brought together people from all walks of life, different experiences, different skills, and that was reflected in the stands that jostled for position in the crowded hall.  There were knitted goods – sweaters and scarves and gloves and blankets – and artwork, a luxury that few other than the highest ranks could afford.  There were face creams and hand creams and fragrances concocted from all manner of raw ingredients, and there were ornaments carved from firewood.  In amongst the food and hand-me-down clothing that were necessities for day-to-day survival was a rich trade in the finer things, or what passed for them in the world today, and it never failed to bring a grin to your face.

You paused beside a stall stacked with a variety of bottles of all different shapes and sizes, selecting one of the larger ones and twisting off the lid.  Holding the rim to your nose, you inhaled deeply, humming in contentment at the fresh piney scent of the liquid contained within.

‘Cologne?’  The lady manning the stall nodded eagerly, encouraging you to take another sniff.  ‘It’s lovely.’

‘I make it myself,’ she told you proudly.  ‘Forage for what I need in the grounds, or my husband picks it up for me when he’s out on supply runs.  Just because the world’s gone all to hell doesn’t mean we have to let ourselves go.’

‘I agree.’  You smiled serenely at her as you replaced the lid, and pulled out the small notebook you used to keep track of your spending.  ‘How much?’

‘For a bottle that size… Thirty points.’

You nodded, your pencil scratching away as you noted the deduction.  It was an extravagance, you knew, but one that you could afford, and you could already imagine the aroma mingling with your husband’s musk, heady and delicious.  ‘It’s perfect.  Thank you.’

As you turned to continue through the market, the fabric of your little black dress fluttering around your knees, you were fully aware of the curious stares that burned into your back.  It wasn’t unusual for Negan’s wives to be seen browsing the wares, parting with their generous supply of points for pretty things to brighten up their quarters and bring them a few fleeting moments of pleasure.  But you knew rumours abounded about the reasons why you’d chosen to pledge yourself to him.  He had no hold over you as he did the others, and though, on a good day, their feelings towards him veered toward mild disdain, you’d never made any effort to hide your affection for the man who’d saved your life and welcomed you into his home.  You’d agreed to marry him not because of what he could give you, the privileges he could offer, but because you could see the strain in his features, the frown lines that marred his brow, and you wanted to do anything you could to make his life a little easier, to give him a little of the happiness that he’d given you.  Because of that, it seemed, you weren’t trusted, but you’d become adept at tuning out the whispers and the glances shot your way through narrowed eyes.  You were his wife and that, to you at least, still meant something.

 

* * *

 

Negan’s eyes sparkled as he took the bottle from your fingers later that evening, twisting it this way and that, and admiring how the diamond cut sparkled in the light.  You idly wondered what it had held before it had been repurposed, but a larger part of you was excited for him to remove the lid and inhale the fresh scent of the cologne.

He’d summoned you after dinner – unsurprising, it was your day of the week after all – and had let out a disbelieving chuckle when you’d offered up the gift.  ‘Shit, doll, you shouldn’t have!’

‘I wanted to.’

‘I am a damn lucky man.’

Now, the lid unscrewed, his eyes flickered closed as the woody scent washed over him.  A satisfied sigh passed his lips and he tipped his head back, lost in memories as you watched on.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Reminds me of my ol’ Grandpa,’ he told you, his voice husky with emotion.  ‘Shit, haven’t thought about the ol’ man in years, but this… It takes me right back to his shed in the backyard.  He used to sit in there drinkin’ whiskey and pretending he was doin’ man things, like carpentry or working on parts for the car.  Must’ve thought Grandma was born yesterday but she let him get away with it.  Goddamn, those were the days.’

‘You were happy then?’ you asked tentatively.  It wasn’t like Negan to talk so openly about life before the dead started walking, and you had to admit that you were curious about the man you’d chosen to marry.

‘I was a kid.  Didn’t know any damn better,’ he responded with a scoff, though he pressed the heel of his hand against the open bottle and tipped it up, swiping the liquid that coated his skin over his neck before inhaling deeply once again.

You smiled, picturing him as a child, standing on tiptoe to peer in through the dusty window at an older, heavily-lined version of himself.  ‘I bet you were a cute kid.’

‘I was chubby as shit,’ he chuckled.  He moved past you, sinking down onto the bed and kicking his feet up onto the mattress as he reclined, uncaring of his boots on the covers.  ‘I know, right?  Wouldn’t have thought it, looking at me now, but Grandma, she was the best damn baker in the state, I swear.  She used to make these cookies… They were like little pieces of heaven.’

‘I could make you some, y’know?’  You crawled onto the bed beside him, curling yourself under his arm so you could rest your head on his chest as he set the bottle to one side, breathing him in.  ‘I mean, they won’t be as good as your Grandma’s, I’m sure, but if the kitchen could spare the ingredients-‘

‘You don’t have to do that for me, doll.’

‘I want to.’

He rolled onto his side to face you, long, lean body pressed against yours and you shifted closer, trailing your fingers over his chest.  ‘Yeah?  Want me to get the guys to pick you up a frilly apron next time they’re out, huh?  Pretty little pinny to stop your dress getting dirty while you bake me up a treat?’

‘Negan!’  You knew he was teasing you, but you didn’t mind.  In fact, you were enjoying the deep rumble of laughter that vibrated through his chest, the dimples that made a rare appearance as a genuine smile graced his features.

‘C’mon, doll, I can just picture it.  Hair pulled back, streak of flour across your cheek, heat of the oven getting you all hot and bothered…’  He tailed off so he could duck his head and press a sweet kiss to your lips as you shook your head at him.  ‘I’m getting hot and bothered just thinking about it.’

‘I was trying to do a nice thing for you.’  You pouted in mock annoyance, and the amusement in his eyes only increased.

‘Oh, you will, trust me.’  Another kiss, this one a little more forceful, a little needier, stealing your breath away, and when he spoke again his voice hushed and intense.  ‘Shit, doll, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, all the little things you do for me, but… I guess, I just don’t get it.’

‘What do you mean?’  Your focus now was almost entirely on the warmth of his hand as it travelled from your waist, down over the curve of your hip to settle on your thigh, and the peek of his tongue as it darted out to wet his bottom lip.

‘I mean, I’m an asshole, alright?  It’s not something I try to fucking hide.  In fact, I’m pretty damn proud of it.  It’s who I have to be to run this place.’

‘You’re not an asshole.’

‘Yes, I am,’ he insisted.  ‘And my wives, quite rightly, pretty much hate my guts.  They want me, sure.  I know how to fucking treat a woman, no mistake.  And they want what I can give them: the points, the special treatment, a comfortable fucking life.  But when it comes down to it, they wish I was dead.’  He fixed you with his penetrating hazel gaze, and you paused in your exploration of his stomach, your hands having slipped beneath his t-shirt to smooth over the firm planes of his skin, swallowing hard.  ‘But not you.’

‘Not me.’

‘Why?’

The atmosphere had shifted, the light-hearted teasing giving way to something more serious, and your fingers drifted up to his face, tracing the lines around his eyes.  ‘You saved me.’

‘So, it’s gratitude?’

‘No.’  You shook your head.  ‘It’s…  I made a vow to stick by your side through good and bad, and I want to honour that.  And, with the world the way it is, sometimes the bad can seem so huge and overwhelming, and I don’t want our marriage to be like that.  I want it to be the good thing that gets you up in the morning.’

‘You take this matrimony thing pretty seriously, don’t you?’

‘I do.’  The words escaped you without any conscious thought, and you giggled at the double meaning.  ‘I’ll always be here for you, Negan.  I promised I would and I’ll stand by that.’

‘And that includes making cookies?’

‘It does now.’

He practically purred as he rolled on top of you, hipbones pinning you to the bed as his stubble scratched against your throat.  ‘And that, doll, is why you’re my fucking favourite?’

‘I am?’

‘Let me prove it to you.’


End file.
